


Birthday Surprise

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: Starting Over [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4545156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Regan's first birthday since her parents were killed and she's ... not doing anything.  Alistair decides to rectify that and make it as special as he possibly can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Edited to add art by the amazing triaelf9.tumblr.com

**RCOUSLAND:** We can do something next weekend when you all are here, Fergus. I don’t mind waiting a week.

**FCOUSLAND:** But it won’t be your birthday, then. It’ll be overshadowed by the extravagance that is my anniversary.

**RCOUSLAND:** Ha, ha. So come up a day or two early, and we’ll do the birthday thing then … and then I’ll watch Oren while you and Oriana do the anniversary thing and get to work on giving him a sibling. 0:)

**FCOUSLAND:** Maker, no. Don’t tell Oriana, but I don’t think I could handle another one. This one’s enough of a handful

**RCOUSLAND:** I bet. Better you than me, anyway. ;) But seriously, we’ll do the birthday thing next week … or weekend, OK? I’m _good_ with it.

**FCOUSLAND:** If you’re sure ….

**FCOUSLAND:** We miss you, you know. All of us back here. You _will_ be coming to the wedding, right?

**RCOUSLAND:** Yes, I’ll be at the wedding. Dairren’s guilted me into being a bridesmaid for Iona; said they needed to even out the lines …. And I miss you all too. Give everyone hugs for me. I’m outta here.

She quickly logged off, shutting her computer down before he could start in on her bringing a date to the wedding. She knew it was coming; he was almost as predictable as his wife when it came to meddling in her life. Sure enough, not a minute after she scooted away from the computer, her phone notified her of a text message. She peered down at the screen and just shook her head.

_F:  Bring a date! Really! Maybe one of those guys who were with you at karaoke?_

She still had months to go before the dreaded bridesmaid’s dress of doom had to be worn. Hell, she hadn’t even _seen_ the thing yet. She was meeting Iona and the other people in the bridal party in an hour to pick out everyone _else’s_ dresses and figure out what alterations needed to be made. Iona had it easy; she was wearing her mother’s dress, slightly altered. After that, it was movie night at Alistair’s.

She still couldn’t believe how much she looked forward to something as simple as dinner and a video with him. It didn’t matter if they made food in, ordered delivery, or picked up take-out. The highlight of her week was always Friday nights. They hadn’t gone back to karaoke, though they kept talking about it. But truthfully, both seemed to enjoy the time they got to spend together, when it was just … them.

Oh, she’d see Alistair at other times during the week. They’d pass periodically in the halls throughout the day – one leaving while the other was just getting home, or getting mail. She’d see him in the park some evenings when she took Jasper for a walk. Sometimes he was playing basketball with people, other times he was simply shooting the ball by himself. Sometimes she joined him, though she was not nearly as coordinated as he was. Sometimes he’d find her at the volleyball net, practicing alone and he’d ask her to show him how to play. But Fridays … Fridays were _their_ day, and she loved them.

_R:  Looking forward to tonight. Anything in particular you want to watch?_

_A:  Surprise me? Got anything special planned for tomorrow?_

_R:  Just going to hang at home, I think. Family’ll be up next week, and we’ll do something then. And I’m seeing Iona in an hour to deal with wedding things._

Alistair stared at his phone. He _knew_ tomorrow was her birthday, had that tidbit of information tucked away for months now, figuring she’d be with family, so their Friday night tradition would be skipped. But, he’d been wrong. He smiled to himself and finished tidying up. He still had dinner to deal with, and while the thought of ordering out was appealing, he wanted to try and impress her with his cooking. He just hoped he didn’t burn the place down in the process.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(the next day)

Regan flopped onto the couch, hitting the power button on the TV remote as she nestled into the cushions. She’d been running around all day trying _not_ to think about the first birthday without her family around. Sure, she could have gone to see Fergus and the others, or even met them in Denerim, but she had to admit, it was kind of nice not having them make a big fuss. It wouldn’t be the same, anyway. She had just powered up her console, ready to spend an hour or so killing things with space lasers before worrying about dinner when the doorbell rang.

Alistair fidgeted nervously after pressing the innocuous button that could spell his utter doom. If she answered the door and told him to go away, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. Sure, this wasn’t their usual thing; they’d enjoyed bad horror movies the night before, just like every Friday. But today was a special day, even if she didn’t want to admit it. He’d thought about inviting Zevran and the others from work, but had decided he didn’t want to risk making her more uncomfortable. The surprise might be bad enough. He kept one hand behind his back and looked around, trying to pretend he wasn’t nervous.

“Alistair? What’re you doing here? Did you lock yourself out of your apartment again?” He was the one person she didn’t think twice opening the door for. It didn’t matter that she was in sweats and an old t-shirt with no shoes on. It didn’t matter that her hair was in the sloppiest ponytail ever and she wore no makeup. It didn’t matter that Jasper nearly knocked her over to greet him as soon as the door swung open. “I can grab my picks if you need me to.”

Alistair flushed, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I, um … no, I didn’t … I have my keys, I mean.” He should have known that’d be the first thing she’d ask. He’d done it a few times since the first time she’d had to unlock his door and she was always willing to save the day, with only the bare minimum of teasing, even. “I actually … um, thought that I might … that is, if you wanted … we could ….”

Regan looked confused, finally taking a moment to notice some … unusual things about his appearance. He wasn’t in his normal t-shirt and jeans, or even his work uniform. He was still in belted jeans and black shoes, but for the first time she could remember, he had his grey shirt covered by a very nice black blazer. “You look rather snazzy,” she interrupted with a smile. “What’s the occasion?” She had to admit, the outfit suited him. “Wait … if I wanted to … what?” What could they do if _she_ wanted?

He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks grow warm under her now suspicious gaze. Maker, why couldn’t he be as smooth as Zevran when it came to these things? The Antivan would have simply told her she was coming with him, taken her hand and whisked her away. Well, no … he might have _tried_ that with her, but Alistair was pretty sure Regan would somehow inflict pain upon Zevran if he tried. But maybe he could do … some things the same way. Taking a breath to calm his nerves, he bowed, reached out, took her hand and brought it up to his lips. After brushing a gentle kiss across her knuckles, he stood and brought a rose out from behind his back. “I thought that I might take you out to dinner for your birthday,” he managed before totally losing his nerve and looking away.  

She bit her lip as he took her hand, felt her cheeks and ears grow warm as his lips touched her skin. They were soft, warm … made her skin tingle just a little when he pulled away. And then there was the rose. Dumbfounded, she reached out, gently took the flower from his hand, fingertips brushing against his skin. “You … my … wha?” He wanted to what? Did he say … he _did_ say he wanted to take her out for her birthday, didn’t he?

“I. um … was hoping I could take you out for your birthday,” he repeated, stomach going in knots again. Was she upset that he wanted to take her out? “I mean, I _know_ Friday is our normal thing and we just saw each other, but … I just thought … maybe ….”

She glanced down at her current state of dress and back at his. There was _no_ way she was going out like _this_. But …. Chewing on her lower lip again, she met his gaze and nodded, slowly. “On one condition,” she finally got out. “You _have_ to let me change. I don’t want to ruin your image by looking like a lump of trash.”

He nodded, reaching out to finally pet Jasper, who had been getting increasingly annoyed about being ignored. “You could never look like trash. Week old laundry, maybe, but not trash.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” She stuck her tongue out at him and motioned for him to come inside. “Let me put this in some water … _thank you_ , by the way. No one’s given me flowers for my birthday in years.” She didn’t mention that the last person who _had_ was her father. It was kind of nice getting them again. She darted to the kitchen, pulled out a tall glass and slipped the stem in, filling it with water. “Be back soon. Make yourself comfortable. I was just getting ready to start that space marine game you recommended, so have at it, if you want.”

“Take your time,” he called back, running his fingers along Jasper’s chin. He dropped to his knees and looked the dog in the eye. “Did I do OK, you think?” Taking Jasper’s answering woof and wagging rear end as an affirmative, Alistair grinned. “Good.” He rose and led the mabari back to the couch, plucking up the controller and setting about creating a character that looked an awful lot like a certain red-haired someone.

“To shower, or not to shower; that is the question,” Regan grumbled as soon as she was out of sight. Shower was probably good, but did she have the time? “Do you actually have a timetable?” she called from her room.

“We’ve got a reservation in an hour, but they’ll hold it if I call and ask them nicely.”

“An _hour_?” Well, shower it was. It was a _quick_ shower, but a shower nonetheless. At least she had clean hair.

“Shit, what am I going to wear?” _This_ was why she never went anywhere. Figuring out an actual outfit was beyond her. Back in Highever, she was always asking Oriana, or Iona, or … well, _anyone_ who had any fashion sense. Hers was incredibly lacking. “No, no, no ….” She flipped through the limited clothes in her closet with a sigh. Ninety percent of her wardrobe was apparently t-shirts and jeans. At least the jeans would be OK. He was wearing them too, and she _did_ own a couple pairs without ripped knees. Dark washed jeans were thrown on the bed. Black boots got kicked across the floor. She finally settled on a black two-part top that her sister-in-law had given her right before she’d moved. The first part, a black spaghetti-strap tank, slipped on easily. The second part … the part that actually made this thing look even remotely dressy, was a flimsy lace cover that wafted down over her as she slipped it and the rest of her clothes on.

She sprinted back to the bathroom, calling out “Just a couple more minutes,” as a sort of apology when she moved through the hall. She didn’t bother listening for a reply; there wasn’t really time. “Blow dry the hair … do _something_ with the mop …. Maybe I should cut it?” No, not now; she wouldn’t dream of taking scissors to it _now_. But maybe she _should_ get it cut shorter … it’d be something new and different. Then a quick dusting of makeup - concealer, powder … lipstick … mascara; that was enough. She did a final once over, checking to make sure everything was tied or buckled or zipped up, then headed back for the living room. “Done.”

Alistair saved the game and shut it off before standing up and turning to look at her. He’d expected her to just throw on a different pair of pants and some shoes … stuff like she wore for their Friday get-togethers; he loved seeing her in clothes she was comfortable in. He hadn’t expected her to go to such lengths … not for him. She looked … “Amazing,” he breathed, finishing his thought aloud. He caught her eye, noticed the curious look on her face and flushed. “I mean … um, you look amazing,” he tried clarifying before realizing he could have just accidentally insulted her normal appearance. “Not that you don’t, um … look amazing any other day. It’s just I … um, well … I … I’m just going to shut up now.”

Regan felt her ears go warm at the compliment, ducked her head when their eyes met. “Like I said,” she murmured eventually, “Didn’t want you to look like you were going out with a sack of trash.” She grabbed her wallet, keys and phone, stuffed them in pockets and tossed Jasper a treat. “Do we have time to make the reservation?”

Alistair checked his watch, nodded, and motioned her toward the door. “That we do. And I still say you would never be mistaken for a sack of trash.” He couldn’t help the small thrill that he got hearing her laugh. It _still_ got to him every time … it was something he wouldn’t mind hearing over and over again. “Come on. I get to drive, this time.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The restaurant was packed and their trip had taken longer than expected; it was well past their reservation time when Regan and Alistair walked up to the hostess. Regan expected to be informed of a several hour wait and started running through the short list of restaurants in downtown Denerim that she knew. None were all that spectacular.

“Right this way, please.”

Regan blinked in surprise as the hostess lead them through the maze of tables to a booth in the corner. Maybe he _had_ called ahead to say they’d be late. But that didn’t explain why people were staring at them. “Alistair … why are people … well, why are they staring at us? They’ve been watching us since we got seated.”

“Because they can’t take their eyes off you?” When she stuck out her tongue in response, he laughed and shook his head. “Probably because this booth is _always_ reserved; I … pulled a few strings and called in a few favors to get it for tonight.” He glanced down at the menu and wondered if she’d just let it drop. He kind of hoped she would; explaining in detail would probably mess up the evening. “That’s why I wasn’t overly concerned about time; I knew they’d keep this one open.”

“You are a piece of work,” Regan laughed, reaching over to give his hand a quick squeeze before looking over the menu. “Wait … isn’t this the Antivan place you got take out from for that first movie night? They’d gotten take out from the restaurant several times, but she’d never been the one to get it. It was always at his apartment by the time she arrived … or he would be carrying the bags when he came to her place.

Looking a little guilty, he nodded. “I thought you might actually like to try the food _before_ it’s been reheated.” His skin tingled where her hand had been and he couldn’t stop the heat from rushing to his ears. At least it was leaving his cheeks alone, for now. “Order whatever you want. Dinner’s on me, tonight.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dinner had been spectacular. She’d decided on a chicken dish, served over pasta with the most delicious melted cheese over everything. He’d chosen a simple pasta and meatball dish and had managed to eat it all without getting any on his clothes. Of course, the napkin tucked into his shirt had helped a great deal in that regard; it looked like someone had gone a little overboard with the splatter paint. They’d taken their time, chatting about anything that crossed their minds while they ate, and when they’d finished their meals, the waitress brought over a small slice of cake. There were no candles, no overly silly song and dance routine, no fanfare in the slightest; just a slice of chocolate cake and two forks.

“Two forks?”

“Yes, well … I thought you might be willing to share?”

Regan gasped, feigning horror. “Share _my_ cake? My _chocolate_ cake? My chocolate _birthday_ cake? What kind of heathen do you take me for, sir?” She matched his grin and waited for him to pick up his fork. “Since you’re cute, you can have a bite or two. But tell no one.”

“My lips are sealed,” he agreed before sticking the forkful of cake into his mouth. He watched her eat, unable to stop the grin, or the butterflies, every time she let out a hushed moan. The cake really _was_ that good. When she was done, and the waitress had come back with his credit card and receipt, they made their way back to his car. “So, what would you like to do now? I thought about catching a movie, but there’s not a lot that’s even remotely good playing. I’m also really horrible about making plans that extend past food. So, it’s kind of up to you.”

Regan had to laugh. It was so like him, but so damned endearing at the same time. “Well, since you got me out of the apartment for once, we might as well enjoy it while we can.” She slipped an arm around his waist as they walked. “Most shops are closed by now … and I _really_ don’t think I could handle a club full of people tonight ….”

“Aw.” Alistair made a sad face, though it didn’t take long for his eyes to light up and take on a teasing glow. “And here, I hoped I might get to show you off.”

“Hey, _I’d_ planned on just staying home, remember?” She reached up and ruffled his hair, earning a squawk of protest. “You’re showing me off plenty just getting me _out_ somewhere.” They fell into a comfortable silence, walking arm in arm until they reached his car and an idea finally came to her. “I want to watch the stars.”

“You want to … what?”

“Watch the stars. The park is _perfect_ for it and it’s a clear night.” She grinned, reaching out to rest a hand on his. “You said we could do whatever I want … and it’ll be fun.”

He felt a small jolt when her hand landed on his. His insides fluttered as he matched her smile. “Fair enough. I … just have to swing by work for a second, and then we’ll go.” Why in the Maker’s name was he getting all flustered and tingly around her?

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Here’s hoping the city guard has better things to do than harass us for being in the park after hours.” Alistair pulled the oversized blanket from his trunk; his detour to work had been to collect _something_ the pair could lay on, rather than grass and dirt. “So where did you want to set up?”

“We’ll be fine,” Regan assured him as she took his hand. “I doubt they’ll even see us.” She led him a very short distance from the car … really, it was right across the small road that divided the parking area from the grassy field. She helped him spread out the blanket and flopped down. “Thank you, Alistair. I … I really appreciate this.”

He smiled, rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I … I have one more thing … I mean, if it’s OK? I kind of … I kind of got you a present.” He pulled a small, flat box from his pocket and held it out, using a small flashlight so she could see.

He got her a present? She carefully took the box and looked up, caught his eye and blushed, biting her lip. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt a strange … tingle in her gut, but it was certainly the most noticeable. “You didn’t … I mean, thank you.” She lifted the lid slowly, until it revealed a silver laurel … the sigil that decorated several Cousland documents, a symbol she’d grown up with and treasured because it had been something important to her parents, to her history. It was attached to a thick silver chain on each side … a necklace or a bracelet? Gingerly, she pulled it free, testing the weight of the necklace. “It … I don’t … it’s beautiful.” It took her a moment to fiddle with the clasp, but she managed to get it on after only a few attempts. “How did you even …?”

Oh, good; she liked it. He let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding and smiled. “I pay attention?” he joked. When she stuck her tongue out at him, he just laughed. “Honest. You’ve got a few things in your living room with that symbol, so I … kind of went and looked online. After that, it was just a matter of finding the right jeweler.” He couldn’t help but stare at her smile … at the way the laurel rested just below the little divot at the bottom of her throat … and the way her eyes seemed to twinkle. “Happy birthday?” he checked, laying down. He tucked his hands behind his head and glanced between her and the stars.

She bit her lower lip, chewed on it nervously as she nodded. She followed his lead, leaning back until she rested on the blanket, hands tucked behind her head. But there was a rock or something pressing against her spine. So, she did the most logical thing. She rolled on her side, scooted closer to Alistair, and rested her head on his shoulder. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know. The whole dinner and gift and everything, I mean.”

His reply caught in his throat as she all but snuggled against him. It wasn’t much different than the nights they spent snuggled on the couch watching movies, really. But somehow, everything felt … tingly. “I know,” he replied, trying to decide if he needed to move … if he _should_ move … if she wanted him to move …. He felt her shift, watched her out of the corner of one eye as she moved to rest on her elbow, those green eyes watching him.

“Why did you, then?”

He tried to guess her tone, decide if she was angry with him, or upset, or happy … and found he couldn’t. Her voice had been barely a whisper, as if she truly didn’t understand – something he knew she wasn’t quite comfortable with. Alistair shrugged slightly, gave her a lopsided smile. “Maybe I was hoping to see you in a dress,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Fat chance of that,” she replied with a laugh. “That’s probably the only reason Dairren made Iona ask me to be in the wedding; so they could stick me in a dress.”

Alistair looked up at her, bit the inside of his cheek when he saw the way she was smiling at him. It was _that_ smile … the one that never failed to make him feel like a hero. He was pretty sure she had no clue she was doing it, but it was the same smile that greeted him when they’d finished moving all the stuff in, and when they’d gone in to return the truck … and when he’d sung _that_ song at karaoke. It was the smile he absolutely loved seeing. “Honestly, I did it … because … because I love ….” He paused, words catching in his throat. “Because I love seeing you smile like that.”

She flushed, her entire body feeling warm all of a sudden. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth, running her tongue along the bit she kept pinned. She leaned over, brushed her lips against his cheek, then again, lingering slightly just at the corner of his lips. “Thank you,” she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder again, this time letting her arm fall lightly across his chest. When she felt his arm drift around her, she didn’t fight the smile, or the contented sigh that escaped.

 


End file.
